Rolling in the Deep: Hawaiian Heroes, Book 2 (3 page)

He shook his head. “Tourists. Big Island equivalent of carving or spray-painting initials, I guess. Some have been here for a few years.”

“Aw, that’s sweet.”

He snorted to himself. Wahine liked silly, sentimental
‘ōpala
like that. Ah, well, at least it was environmentally harmless. One good tsunami, and the whole west shore would be washed clean, the old chunks of coral tumbled back into the ocean from which they’d come.

“Look at that one,” Bella chimed in. “
I love U, Skinny
.” The two girls laughed delightedly, Claire in a deep, husky chuckle that ricocheted under his skin as if she’d trailed her fingers over his bare flesh.

That laugh was as familiar as her scent. He’d heard her, smelled her before…in his dreams. He clenched his hands on the steering wheel as reaction shot straight to his groin. His cock, still half-aroused from his first sight of her, stiffened again.

He stifled a growl of sheer male frustration and glared at the road. Ten more minutes max, and he could get her out of his truck and be on his way.

Claire was torn between elation at actually being in Hawaii and impatience at the lack of scenery on this godforsaken west shore of the Big Island—seemed to be mostly lava rubble so far. The ocean was pretty, but being from Astoria, she was used to that. This tropical sea, although a lovely color viewed from the plane, was far from the highway.

She’d had the aisle seat on the plane, and the sulky teenager she’d been seated with had glued herself to the small window, so Claire had caught only a few glimpses of green and blue as they flew in. She’d seen a few palm trees around the airport and a couple of flowering trees, but although the mountainside above was green, down here the land was barren and brown.

The pretty parts were here somewhere, or people wouldn’t strew beautiful photos of their Hawaiian vacations all over the Internet. A beach, that was what she wanted to see, preferably accompanied by a lounge chair and a smiling waiter with a mai tai. And some shade. It was brighter here than in Oregon. The tropical sun had a real kick to it.

She remembered the sunglasses perched on her head and slid them down onto her nose. Polarized lenses, light and strong, a travel gift from her mother. They cut the glare better than the cheap kind she could afford on her college-student budget. And with shades on, she could study their driver without getting caught. Now that was some fine scenery—even his back view was impressive.

Claire slid over a little in her seat, pretending to get more comfortable, and tilted her head to peer around his seat back. His long hair was braided in fat plaits, tied at his nape with a leather thong. She flexed her fingers on the leather armrest, wondering if his wavy hair was as soft as it looked or coarse. And how would his golden skin feel—smooth and silky even under those dramatic ink markings? Tipping her head a little more, she followed a line of twisting triangles over the bulge of his huge shoulder and down into his blue tank top.

Bella nudged her with her elbow, and Claire looked over, startled. Her friend arched a brow over the top of her designer sunglasses.

Claire wrinkled her nose—busted.

Bella shook her head slightly in incomprehension. Claire’s mouth dropped open. How could her best friend not see what magnificent male real estate was just inches away? Oh, well, that meant one of them wouldn’t be disappointed. Because it wouldn’t have mattered if Bella
was
attracted—she was not getting him.

Claire stared at the side of Daniel Ho’omalu’s hard, bearded face as he turned his head, turning the steering wheel as well. The big truck wheeled onto a different road, south toward the sea, but Claire hardly noticed. She was too busy dealing with the strange feelings swelling inside her. Not shock, closer to outright panic.

This was just good old-fashioned lust, that was all. She just needed to get him naked, and they’d have a great time, and then it would be time to go back to Oregon, to her real life—studying for finals, working on her Web site design projects.

Sure, she dated, but she’d been careful not to get too serious with anyone. She couldn’t afford to—she was at school on a scholarship and money carefully saved by her parents. Her father fished with his brothers, and her mother was a secretary at the local elementary school, but times were tight in the little fishing town. Claire could always move back home to save money, but she’d end up checking at the local grocery store or something. As much as she loved her parents, the thought of being stuck in Astoria at minimum wage made her shudder.

Nope, she needed to stay focused and get superb marks on her final project so her professors would recommend her to future clients. Only another month until she graduated, and then she had plans—she was going to travel, going to live by a beach somewhere.

So her feelings for Daniel Ho’omalu were no more than desire—they couldn’t be. She just wanted a tropical fling with an incredibly sexy guy.

His initial reticence aside, she was pretty sure he wouldn’t say no, unless he was already taken. Uncertainty slashed through her reassuring litany. What if he was with another woman? No way would she try to cut in on a relationship. But how was she going to find out? She couldn’t very well ask him in front of Grace and Bella. She drummed her fingers impatiently on the leather armrest. She’d ask Melia.

The big truck turned into a wide gateway, past a sign with white letters on a rock face that read
Royal Kona Resort
. What she thought was a swordfish leapt over the words. Salmon, halibut, those she knew. This fish was tropical; that was what mattered.

Lush plants lined the drive. Flowering trees and clusters of tall palms swayed in the afternoon breeze, their green fronds fluttering over the manicured lawns. Beyond them soared the hotel, all sand-hued angles against the blue sky. This was the Hawaii she’d been looking for.

Daniel stopped next to a sign that read
Aloha
in huge, cheerful letters. A Hawaiian man in shorts and a flowered shirt stepped out to open the truck doors. Claire stepped down into the shade while their host handed off their luggage.

“My mother will phone you,” he told Grace. “She’d like you to join her for dinner this evening.”

“How nice. Thank you again for picking us up, Daniel.”

“You’re welcome.”

Claire smiled and waggled her fingers at him in a little wave good-bye. His only response was the lift of one heavy brow over his sunglasses. Then he jumped back into his truck and was gone with a rumble of the big engine.

She scowled after him, chagrin heating her cheeks. Good grief, so far he was about as friendly as a Rottweiler.

“Claire, come on,” Bella urged.

“Coming.” Turning, she followed the other two women under the awning.

Water burbled as they crossed a bridge over koi ponds, past fountains and trailing plants to an open, airy lobby. Her pique forgotten, Claire stared wide-eyed at the huge columns holding up the roof, the paintings of traditional scenes on the walls, and the view of the lush grounds and breaking surf beyond. This turn-of-the-century ambience was in complete contrast to the ultramodern exterior of the hotel.

“Wow,” she breathed to Bella. “This isn’t the Astoria Budget Inn, girlfriend.”

“No kidding. We definitely need to have a drink at that bar.”

Claire nodded, following her friend’s gaze to view the large, circular tiki bar on a lanai hanging over the surf.

“Come along, girls,” Grace said. “You can explore in a bit. I want to get up to my room and change into something cooler.”

An elevator carried them up to the third floor and a wide, quiet hallway. The concierge unlocked a door and motioned for them to precede him. Claire followed the other two women into a large, open suite with Asian-style wood-and-bamboo furniture and an entire wall of windows.

“Oh, an ocean view,” Grace exclaimed. “How thoughtful of the Ho’omalus.”

Grace walked, spellbound, to the open lanai doors and through them. She emerged into the bright sunshine, only the sky overhead. The side of the hotel swooped out below in tiers, and beyond lay the sea. Bright turquoise-blue, glittering in the sun that poured down, rimmed with palm trees waving gently in the afternoon breeze.

Flowers bloomed everywhere, even in the trees, most of which she didn’t recognize. Their sweet perfume danced elusively on the air. She took a deep breath. Even the ocean smelled different here. Gentler, lacking the sharp, briny scent of the cold waters off Oregon’s coast. Shock zinged her middle as she realized the scent that filled her nostrils was Daniel Ho’omalu’s. He smelled like the sea, mysterious and inviting.

She gazed out at the bright water dancing in the sun. Its mild look was deceptive. This tropical sea was every bit as dangerous as the ocean off the coast of Oregon, deserving of caution and respect by tourists who didn’t understand its ways.

Perhaps another attribute shared with Daniel Ho’omalu. She narrowed her eyes, her hands tightening on the railing. She’d be on the island for over a week, and she could handle its challenges—both of them.

Chapter Three

He needed to get her the hell off his island.

Daniel drove away from the Royal K with his hands clenched on the steering wheel. A few more days, and David’s wedding and all the festivities would be over. All Daniel had to do was stick to his part. Then he could get back to his life.

As a plan, it was simple. Which didn’t mean it couldn’t turn into an utter shipwreck. And he had a bad feeling—maybe the same way the kanaka on guard duty had felt when he’d sighted Captain Cook’s sail on the horizon. Those faraway sails must have looked so pretty, shining in the sun. Until the ship sailed into port, and the natives learned what they had to contend with—haole invaders who wouldn’t take no for an answer.

Well, this particular haole would have to—and he had to remain on guard, or he’d find himself in the same kind of
kāhehi
, huge mess, as his ancestors. And like them, he could lose his treasured way of life.

He’d almost done so once before. He’d been so full of himself, ready to believe a stranger when she told him she was ready for his kind of no-holds-barred sex. She’d changed her mind a little too late.

Daniel shook off his bleak memories. He had more important things to worry about than one blonde wahine—although right now she felt as dangerous as the po’inos trying to move their drugs onto his island. He pulled to a stop at a light, gazing idly at the tourists streaming across the crosswalk before him.

He’d had his final interview with the police that morning about the explosion aboard Akeo Apana’s boat. Everyone was satisfied with Daniel’s explanation of events on the ill-fated fishing expedition. All the local fishermen knew Apana had been a dumb-ass who didn’t take care of his boat.

Daniel had kept as close to the truth as he could—he’d helped Akeo work on his motor, thought they had fixed the problem and gone out with him to make sure it was running okay. When the alternator sparked and he smelled gas, Daniel had leapt into the ocean, managing to dive deep enough to save himself from the explosion that had killed Akeo Apana.

He’d told the police he’d floated for hours, then been picked up by a passing boat, day-trippers from Maui who’d dropped him off at Nawea Bay. In shock, he hadn’t gotten their names or the name of their boat, so it was no surprise when the police couldn’t find them to corroborate his story. Since Daniel was from a respected family and had no reason to commit foul play, they let it drop. They’d found enough floating debris from the boat to show that there’d been an explosion. Death by accident.

But it was no accident that Apana had found that buoy and the package hanging under it, no matter how surprised he’d tried to act. He’d been ebullient and nervous as a
puhi
for days.

Keone Halama, a local who lived on the mountain , had commented about how Apana was slinging cash, when Daniel had stopped the week before at the Kolohe, a small bar frequented by locals.

In light of the recent attempt by a Los Angeles drug gang to move into the islands, and given that all the locals knew Akeo was always scrounging for enough money to get by, Daniel’s
ho’omalu,
guardian, instincts had kicked into high gear.

A traditional slack-key guitar riff sounded from the truck console, and Daniel looked at his phone. His brother. He clicked on his earpiece.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I got your wahines and delivered them to their hotel.”

“
Mahalo
,” David’s voice said in his ear, as deep as his own but smoother. “Melia can relax knowing they’re here.”

Good that somebody could relax. The light changed, and Daniel pulled out into traffic, heading west back toward the dry lava plain. “
A’ole pilikia
, no problem. You need anything else?”

“Not a thing, brah.”

“See you at Kona Brew about six o’clock? Don’t wanna miss your last night with da mokes.” Daniel was throwing David a bachelor party that evening at the popular brewery.

“Ah, yeah,” David said. “About that… Ma wants us to have dinner first, with Melia’s guests.”

Daniel groaned. “Fuck, you’re kidding.”

“Afraid not, brah.” David sounded as if he were trying not to laugh.

Daniel scowled at the road before him. “What time?”

“Six o’clock at the Royal K. Listen, we can head up to Kona Brew afterward. I’ll let Gabe and Jack know we’ll be there at seven thirty or so.”

“Pop coming to dinner?”

“Yeah.”

Daniel sighed.

“C’mon, why so gloomy?” David asked, obviously surprised. “They’re pretty wahines and nice too.”

“I’ll be there—that’s all you need to know.”

Daniel clicked off his phone to the sound of his little brother’s laughter.

Traffic was heavy. On a beautiful afternoon like this, the tourists were out in throngs, zipping around in their little rental cars and strolling the avenue, looking for trinkets and photo ops to take back home. With the patience of long practice, Daniel waited for a chubby, sunburned man to cross the road in defiance of the blinking yellow caution light before easing his big truck through the intersection.